


Giving Up

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22632076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: This slots in before the family starts to make plans to head into space.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Giving Up

“So I just need you to work with Brains to analysis the new information more thoroughly and then we can make a proper plan.” Scott was saying to the translucent form of his brother hovering in the middle of the room, who didn’t seem to be paying attention. John was always doing more than one thing at a time but he was usually good at _pretending_ to pay attention. 

“Are you even listening?” Scott gave a ‘would you believe this’ gesture towards Gordon who was lying on the couch reading a magazine. _He_ wasn’t paying attention either. 

Scott’s demand bought John’s gaze around, disregarding whatever else was going on right now. “I was listening.” 

“And you’re going to make this a priority.” Scott prompted. 

“Sure.” John said, tone flat and uninterested, his attention once more elsewhere. 

Scott was perplexed. The island had been abuzz with nervous excitement since the discover of the possibility that there was chance that Dad has survived the accident. Everyone was restless – even Grandma, maybe especially Grandma – and Scott was having a hard time keeping them all on track with the day-to-day operations of the organisation. John was nearly unflappable in a crisis – it was one of the characteristics that made him perfect as their first point of contact for people in distress - but there should be some sort of reaction underneath his practiced calm. 

“Well it doesn’t seem like it and I don’t know why you’d be anything other than jumping straight in. We need you to be on this. Dad needs you to be on this.” 

“I will go on this wild goose chase but don’t expect me to be happy about it.” John rolled his eyes. 

“Wild...? Wild goose chase?” Scott leaned forward over his – over Dad’s - desk. “This is _him_ John, we’re going to find him and _bring him home.”_

_“_ No we’re not.” And abruptly the communication ended with a distinctive but seldom heard click. John had closed the line. Completely. Usually when John dropped off comms the line was still open so he could still listen in, but this time the line was completely cut. 

Gordon lowered his magazine. “Did he just hang up on you?” 

“Yeah” He did. Scott wasn’t even angry, he was confused. “John never just hangs up.” 

“Well, he hangs up on me all the time. But I’m annoying.” Gordon straightened up and threw his magazine to one side. “What did _you_ do?” 

“I didn’t do anything! I’ve just been trying to get him down here so we can go over that signal from Dad, so we can make a plan. But since when does he think this is a _wild goose chase_. I thought we were all on board with this.” 

“Ah. I see, that’s why he’s been so snippy.” 

“Gordon. You’re not helping.” 

“Sure I am, you just aren’t listening. Neither was John. Which is the problem.” 

“Gordon! Stop. Speaking. In. Riddles.” 

“Have you noticed how John has been the last couple of days – snappy, distracted?” 

Scott had, been it had been a stressful week. He wasn’t about to bring it up when everyone was on edge. “We’ve all been a bit out of sorts.” 

“John is never out of sorts and you know it. The only time I remember him being like this is when he thought he’d messed up on his last dissertation.” 

“Yeah, he was in a bad mood that week.” 

“So......” Gordon waggled his eyebrows suggestively, with a message that Scott just wasn’t getting. Gordon heaved himself to his feet and laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I love you big bro, but you can’t see past the end of your nose sometimes. You need to go speak to John. He doesn’t deal well with failure.” 

Gordon was annoying. He had an awful sense of humour and worse taste in shirts. He had better weather sense than anyone and never let a joke get in the way of a mission. He could also tell exactly when one of the others was at breaking point. And he was right – John _didn’t_ do well with failure. None of them exactly took it easily but when a mission had gone wrong John tended to ruminate on all the might-have-beens and was very bad at lifting himself out of a downward spiral. Someone else had to do that for him. 

Scott was moving straight away, barreling down the stairs to the hangers and the space elevator’s docking pad. “EOS I need the elevator.” He called out as he ran. “Override whatever you have to, I need to get up there.” 

The pure, high, calm voice of the AI chimed back at him. “It is already descending. John is exhibiting disturbingly unique behavior.” 

Scott skidded around a corner and arrived at the pad just as the elevator docked. A few quick button presses and Scott was strapping himself into the chair that was just slightly the wrong shape to be comfortable, having been custom made for John’s lanky form. 

Scott spent his journey upwards fretting and thinking. He had never liked travelling in the space elevator. There was something about being dragged into the sky on such a tenuous tether that filled him with fear, despite Brain’s spectacular engineering. It came down to the fact that he didn’t like being out of control and without a set of rockets beneath him. Today it didn’t even cross his mind, so consumed he was with John’s out of character actions. John didn’t hang up, he just didn’t. If Scott had left him to stew over some perceived failure for that long... this could be bad. 

A smooth hiss welcomed him to the station, airlock opening onto the carefully calibrated and regulated environment. It always smelt clinical up here to Scott, just slightly on the wrong style of sterile. It was unavoidable with recycled air, a sealed environment and a multitude of filters for dust and microbes. It was unpleasant all the same. 

A blinking green light on one of the wall displays indicated the presence of EOS, who reformed for a moment into an arrow, pointing in the direction of John’s room. He gave a nod of thanks and made his way through the station. 

Back on the island John’s bedroom walls were covered with star maps pictures of sprawling galaxies; family photos clustered onto his bedside table. Up here one wall was open to the sprawling galaxy so prints of the same were a bit superfluous: the solid walls were papered with recent pictures of himself and the others, older ones that included Dad, and older few that included Mom. Always keeping a reminder of those he loved when he was far away. 

John was sitting on his neatly made bunk, feet tucked up in front of him, arms clasped round his knees, staring into – for want of a better word – space. 

“Hey.” Scott said softly, sitting beside him. “I think you’re kinda scaring EOS and I didn’t think that was even possible.” 

John didn’t respond, not even blinking. 

“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it.” 

“You can’t fix it Scott.” John whispered, words loud against the quiet of the station. 

“Sure we can, we’re International Rescue.” Scott said with a confidence that he didn’t feel a hundred percent, but that he projected to fool himself as well as the rest of the family. 

John gave him a glare. “We can’t fix this because there is nothing to fix. You can’t find Dad because he’s not out there. He’s dead Scott.” 

“I know we thought that, but with this new information - “ 

“ - nothing has changed.” 

Scott knew when to leave silence, knew when John needed a moment to let his thoughts work their way out. 

“I stopped looking Scott.” 

“We did.” Scott admitted, though it hung heavy on his heart to admit. 

“I can’t believe he’s alive because that would mean I gave up too soon.” 

“We worked on the best information we had at the time and when I gave the order to call of the search it was because - “ Scott hesitated. John rarely lied, but he didn’t always tell the whole truth if he thought a half-truth was necessary. You had to listen carefully sometimes to catch his meaning. 

Scott narrowed his eyes at his forlorn brother, trying to see past the carefully crafted façade, through the turmoil below it, to find the smallest tells of deception. “You said ‘I’ stopped looking. When exactly was that, because I have a feeling it wasn’t when I told you to.” 

Yes, there was a flicker of guilt, seldom seen but distinctive all the same. Scott gave him a nudge with his elbow. “How long.” 

“About six months later.” And then the words were tumbling out. “I thought it was too soon, that there was more I could do so rather than have a big old argument about it I just got on with it. I tried all the search grids again. Recalibrated the sensors. Searched again..... and again, and again. I did everything over and over in case I missed something. The one morning I got up and just..... didn’t do it.” 

John looked at him, as lost as he had been when they were boys and the dog had run away. 

“And now we have hope again you’re not in the least bit smug because you were right?” 

“Of course not. If I was right, if he was out there, that just means I failed him. He was out there. Maybe hurt, maybe dying, in pain, alone. He’s been calling for us Scott. It was my job to listen for him and I stopped.” 

John was on the verge of breaking, voice cracking as his throat closed, and beginning to shake. John put on so many layers to make sure that he always presented the best face for International Rescue, but sometimes he was just as scared as the rest of them. 

Scott put his arms round and bought John in for a tight hug, where he could whisper right into his ear. 

“You did not fail him, you hear? You have never failed any of us. Never. It’s taken years and a unique set of circumstances for us to get this message. There’s no way that anything on Thunderbird Five, not even with EOS’s help, could have found him. So don’t blame yourself. None of us do and I know he won’t either, whatever we find out there.” 

“You can’t know that.” John said, dejected but with an aura that said he wanted to be persuaded otherwise. Scott was happy to oblige. 

“Of course I can. I know you, and I know the others and I know Dad. I know we can get through whatever is thrown at us if we do it together. But you can’t take sole responsibility for everything that we could do better – have you been eating? Sleeping?” 

“John has been taking less than optimal care of his needs.” EOS injected. 

“Snitch” John said fondly. 

“So, you are going to come back downstairs we me, have a meal a family, sleep eight hours in a proper bed and then we’re all going to set to work together. Got it?” John nodded, defeated but calmer, more relaxed. 

“You going to accept anything other than a whole-hearted ‘yes’?” 

“Nope. Unless there is anything else you want to get of your chest?” 

John looked him up and down: calmer, more relaxed, the layers of self confidence sliding back in place as layers of guilt years thick sloughed away. A small smirk now teetering on his lips. “There is one thing. You really shouldn’t be up here in civvies you know, it’s terribly unsafe.” 


End file.
